


Gareth Smith and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by VermilionRed



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Background Character Death, Brief Mention of Blood, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25867777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VermilionRed/pseuds/VermilionRed
Summary: Gareth Smith has a terrible day.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	Gareth Smith and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Gareth Smith, or Gary as his friends called him, was having a bad day.

He had spilled his morning coffee on his favourite tie and changing made him late for work, which also made it impossible to stop by his favourite sandwich shop that sold mediocre food but had a young lady at the register every other day, and Gary was hellbent on asking for her number that day. Plans foiled by clumsy coffee-drinking, he trudged into his office ten minutes late and ignored the pointed looks he got from the surrounding desks.

He hated this new trend of open offices with a passion, even though he could have never believed he’d ever miss spending his workdays in a grim, grey cubicle. Still, no way the day could get worse than this, right?

Right?

Wrong.

**09:23 AM**

“Yes Clara, thank you. I’ll handle this,” Gary said, taking the thick manila envelope from Clara, the resident envelope-bringer. What her real job was, he did not know, but she showed up with more paperwork for him to tackle almost every day.

She smiled at him, adjusted the rest of the envelopes in her arms and turned to hunt down her next victim. Gary sighed, and sliced the envelope open with one swell swoop with his trusty letter opener. Inside, a mess of paper greeted him.

 _Oh great_ , he thought, _another client who has never heard of those... those... plastic folder things_. He always forgot the name.

“Punch pockets!” Gary whispered triumphantly, tipping the contents of the envelope out on his table. It really was a mess of papers, followed by the melodic clink of some metal paperclips bouncing on the desk once, only to disappear behind the jungle of cables between desk and wall forever. _At least the client tried_ , Gary grumbled as he tried to stack the papers into a neater, hopefully more manageable pile.

“OUCH!” he hissed two and a half seconds later, sucking the sensitive skin between his forefinger and thumb into his mouth.

A papercut.

He only noticed later, as he re-tucked his shirt into his trousers after a well-earned bathroom break for a few levels of Fruit Ninja, that he somehow managed to get a smear of blood on his sleeve.

**10:37 AM**

Gary really hoped the blood stain was small and inconspicuous enough to go unnoticed for the rest of the day. He knew better than to try and wash it at the bathroom sink – the water blotch would certainly gain attention. He’ll just have to soak it really well once he gets home.

He desperately tried to think of a way to salvage his absolutely terrible day, and what better way to do that than with a second cup of coffee for the day?

His office mug was a hideous thing of cheap ceramic, but it was the first thing he bought for himself with the first pay check he got this position. It was a very generic white mug with a pink elephant on rollerblades painted on it, and the words “NOTHING CAN STOP ME” underneath.

Gary leaned against the countertop in the office kitchenette, waiting for the old coffee machine to whirr into life. They had one of those fancy new capsule coffee makers, but he still preferred the old one. Tasted better.

He was startled from his thoughts by his phone ringing. He grappled for it in his pocket, and knocked the elephant mug off the countertop in the process, shattering it into pieces.

**10:40 AM**

“Hey Gary!” said Sammy, the UPS delivery man. Good guy, always on time, no damaged boxes.

“Hi Sam,” Gary sighed, staring at the ruins of his mug on the floor. Where was the broom again?

“So, there’s a thing,” Sammy started, with a cheerfulness to his voice that was honestly alarming. Gary gave up on finding the broom and sat down in the only chair in the kitchenette. He felt the crunch of ceramic dust under his shoes.

“So you know I was supposed to deliver your thing today? In about an hour or so?”

“Yeees?” Gary asked, hoping for good news.

“Well I was on time with everything and all, but then this crazy chick with that gay haircut, you know the one, so she cut in front of me at the intersection and there was someone coming from the opposite direction and you know this was at the...”

“Sammy, get to the point, please,” Gary sighed. Sammy took a deep breath.

“My van overturned and landed in the ditch next to the road. I mean I’m fine, because seatbelt and all, but all the deliveries are gonna be late because the police is still here, the van’s still in the ditch and I’m just calling to let you know. Maybe tomorrow?”

Gary wanted to cry. The delivery was a set of fancy hand-blown wineglasses he’s been saving up to buy for months. Absolutely no way those survived the van’s dive into the ditch in one piece.

At least the seller promised a full refund in case the glasses arrived damaged.

**11:45 AM**

Gary headed out for lunch. He decided that since he had to skip the sandwich bar in the morning, he might as well go in for lunch.

Ask that beautiful young woman for her phone number after paying for his two egg salad sandwiches.

But she was not working that day, it was the hipster art student with the messy bun and the annoyingly cheerful smile.

And he stepped into a dog poop on his way back to the office.

**01:45 PM**

After washing his shoe for a good ten minutes to get rid of the smell and maybe hiding in a bathroom stall to shed some manly tears, Gary got a call from his boss.

“Hey there, Gary, there is this new client who wants his documents picked up in person. You know that Merrick guy? The pharma company?”

“Yeah?”

“So, the building opposite of that, seventh floor.”

So Gary got into his car and drove to downtown. The streets were thankfully – if suspiciously – empty, and he parked in front of Merrick’s glass and metal monstrosity of a building. Crossing the street after looking both ways three times, Gary entered the office building and decided to walk up to the seventh floor.

No use risking getting stuck in the lift on an already bad day.

The client was polite in a cool and measured way, but that suited Gary just fine. He got the files and started his way back down, taking the stairs again. Much easier on the way down.

He was just about to step out of the building when the crowd of people and the shrill scream of police sirens caught his attention. They were all gathered around his car.

Suddenly nervous, he pushed his way through the crowd of people all the way to the police tape.

“Excuse me sir, you cannot come any closer,” an officer told him. Gary glared at him.

“That’s my car!” he exclaimed. The officer raised an eyebrow.

“Really? Well unfortunately, you cannot have it back now. My colleague will take your statement,” he said, and then turning away, yelled at another officer, “Georgie! Get over here! The car’s owner is here!”

Gary was staring at his car. The top was completely caved in, shards of broken glass everywhere. And there, awkwardly sprawled between the seats was...

A dead body???

**04:27 PM**

After repeating his statement three times to three different officers, Gary was allowed to go. He called his boss and got given the rest of the day off, and then he called his insurance agent about the car.

“Your car had _a what_ falling on it?” the agent asked, disbelief clear in his voice. Gary dragged a hand down his face as he walked.

“A man. I’m sure it will be on the news. Police didn’t say if it was murder or suicide, but I guess that will be on the news as well.”

“Tough shit. I’ll check if your package covers such things or not.”

“Thanks,” Gary muttered, and ended the call. There was a pub right ahead of him, and he walked in, suddenly desperate for alcohol.

The bar was old, from furniture to décor, a wall hanging proudly proclaiming the history of the place. Gary took a seat at the bar.

“An IPA, please,” he told the bartender tiredly. “And a plate of chips as well.”

The bartender placed his beer in front of him. “A few minutes for the chips."

Gary nodded, and looked at a group of four, sitting at the window. Two men and two women, seemingly stuck in a heated debate over something. One of the men, with nondescript clothes and light brown hair, seemed like he was trying to get his companions to come to an agreement, and was he speaking... Italian? Gary wasn’t very good at languages but it certainly reminded him of that trip to Rome he took in high school.

Did he just hear the guy closer to him say the words _exile_ , and _century_?

**04:40 PM**

The group was still debating, but one of the women, younger, mid-twenties, had walked outside to talk to a third man leaning against the porch railing.

She was absolutely breath-taking, Gary decided, if a bit on the young side for himself. As she walked back inside, she made a beeline for the bar and signalled the bartender. She was leaning against the wood countertop right next to Gary, her female companion walking outside with a passing touch to her shoulder.

It was the right opportunity.

“Hey,” Gary said. Not the best opening, but still something. The woman looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” she replied tentatively. American accent.

Gary was about to open his mouth to try one of the new lines he found online on her, when the other man from her table appeared behind her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. This was the one with the dark curly hair, who had been glaring out the window earlier.

“You okay, Nile?”

She smiled up at him before taking her drink from the bartender and letting herself be led back to their table. The guy looked back at Gary for a second, eyes cold as ice. He shuddered, and turned back to his beer.

**05:10 PM**

The group of four left, leaving the pub suddenly lighter, the air less heavy. Gary downed the rest of his beer and decided to go down to the beach and skip stones for a while.

The man he saw on the porch was there, flinging rocks at the river with practiced ease, face darker than a storm cloud.

Gary decided to walk to the closest Tube stop and head home instead.

**06:28 PM**

Gary collapsed face-first on his couch, not even bothering to take off his shoes. His day absolutely sucked; he could not imagine how it could have gone any worse. In need of some white noise, he fumbled for the remote and turned on the TV. It was a news channel.

“The CEO of Merrick Pharmaceutical was allegedly killed in a freak accident toda...”

Gary turned the TV off.

He flopped around to his back, and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, before deciding on ordering Chinese for dinner.

While he waited, he grabbed his laptop to find another elephant mug online. After such a horrible day, he felt like he deserved a replacement.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the timeframe for the movie and this fic do not match up, and to be honest, I do not care. This is 100% self-indulgence because I wished for something ridiculous.
> 
> (Yes the reason Sammy's van overturned was totally Andy)
> 
> Thank you for the betaing to Solovei :D
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://mercurysulfite.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
